


The Kids Aren't Alright

by Angor_Rot



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Schizophrenia, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 17:12:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17207534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angor_Rot/pseuds/Angor_Rot





	The Kids Aren't Alright

First, it was glimpses of shadows, silhouettes. Jim would only see them at night, the sudden and quick visions only appearing out of the corner of his eyes. His body would send shivers down his spine every time he saw them, his mind chose to ignore what he saw and chalk it up to sleep deprivation. Taking care of his mother and keeping up his grades was a full-time job. 

A couple weeks after Jim started seeing the shadows, they slowly became more than that. The dark blobs of nothing gained color and dimension, although Jim still saw nothing but flashes.

That was, until, two weeks later.

The noises coming from underneath Jim’s feet startled him at first but gradually became more and more bothersome. He silently padded down the stairs to the basement, a broom in hand; he figured it was just raccoons. What Jim saw brought him to his knees…

Stepping into the light of the furnace, two indescribably horrifying creatures made themselves known. One possessed eight eyes and had four arms, each hand having long and jagged fingernails. The other crouched over with its knuckles lightly dragging on the ground, the arms twisted in unnatural ways. Then Jim noticed the eyes. The four-armed one had eight eyes, the other, ape-like being had two. Their eyes were black, empty and hollow, with glowing green pupils.

The beings stood there, watching him closely, their breathing ragged and rough. His body, unable to do anything, caused him to throw up and blackout next to the pile of filth.

Jim woke up the next morning with the creatures gone, the smell of his own puke filling his nose. He slowly rose himself off the ground, groaning as he rubbed his face. As Jim cleaned up the mess he made, he created a resolution to get more sleep. The boy knew how closely hallucinations and sleep deprivation were connected.

That night, Jim laid down at a fairly reasonable time and fell asleep quickly, his dreams filled with visions of the horrifying creatures. Surprisingly he wasn’t afraid of them. 

Jim woke up the next morning around 4 am, thinking that he’d get up early to cook breakfast for his mother, even though it was still dark outside. He marched down the stairs, ideas of what to make for breakfast running through his head. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the blue creature standing in his kitchen.

Jim’s mind darted around, trying to figure out what to do. The image of the monster repulsed him and he held a hand to his mouth to avoid throwing up on the floor again. His entire body shook, complete and utter fear coursing through his veins. 

The monster wasn’t near the knives, so Jim bolted towards them and grabbed one, pointing it at the being.

“I don’t know what you are, but leave me alone!” 

The creature blinked at him with its eight eyes and slowly moved towards him, putting a twisted hand with filthy claws on his shoulder. Jim shuddered as it spoke, its voice barely a whisper, the stench of its breath filling Jim’s nostrils.

_“That knife won’t work on my skin, but it’ll work on yours.”_

After that, the creature left out the back door, leaving Jim in shock. Hallucinations weren’t supposed to be able to touch him, they weren’t supposed to have any smell at all, much less a strong stink. Jim’s body was petrified for a moment before he dove under the table.

A few hours later, Barbara came downstairs and found Jim curled up in a ball, clutching onto the knife for dear life, rocking himself back and forth, eyes full of terror. She had no idea what had terrified her brave son so badly.

Jim didn’t go to the school that day.

His best friend, Toby, became extremely concerned about him. Jim seldom missed school, even when he was ill. He traveled over to Jim’s house, knocking before letting himself in. Instantly, a knife was pressed to his throat. 

“Please tell me you’re not with them Tobes. I need you to be on my side.”

“Of course I’m on your side, Jim. Always have been, always will be.” Toby recognized something was wrong, Jim would never threaten him, even as a joke. The sharp blade left his throat. “What’s going on?!”

“I don’t know, that’s what I’m trying to figure out. You need to leave, it isn’t safe here.” Jim opened the door and gestured for Toby to go.

Toby, somewhat horrified by this entire situation, left, but not before giving Jim a tight hug.

“Whatever you’re scared to say, I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk about it.”

The door flew open with his strength but as soon as it came it left. With nothing left in him, his knees buckle against the wall and collapsed onto the floor, curling in on himself. 

Jim found himself alone again in the seemingly vacant house, however, there were heavy footsteps following him all throughout the day.

Then the night came once more.

The two creatures were back, somehow silently making their way into Jim’s room. He groaned and rolled over, trying to get comfortable when he saw the things. His eyes were barely open, just enough that he could see them. Jim’s fingers wrapped around the handle of the knife he had started keeping under his pillow.

_“We can tell you how to get rid of us, Jim.”_ The creature spoke softly, the other monster following behind it.

**“If you’ll open your eyes and listen to us.”**

The boy sat up, knife still in hand.

“Tell me how.”

The four-armed being smiled crookedly, its teeth rotting and decayed. Jim could smell the stench of its breath from the other side of the room.

_“The only thing that can get rid of us is your blood spilling.”_

**“Even then, it’s only for one night. We will be back for more the next night.”**

Jim slid the knife out from under his pillow, staring at his reflection in it. At least he had a solution, however temporary it was. The boy knew how sharp the blade was, he sharpened all of his kitchen knives himself, so he pressed it to his skin lightly and dragged the knife across his arm. A thin line of blood appeared and Jim looked up at the creatures, expecting them to be gone.

_“You think that’ll satisfy us? That’s not enough blood to make even one of us happy.”_

**“You must go deeper.”**

Jim was so determined to get the beings to leave him alone that the pain scarcely fazed him. He tried again and again until that haunting laughter stopped. Jim looked up to find the monsters were gone as quickly as they had appeared, and finally noticed the tears streaming down his face. 

He was finally, truly alone. 

The cut was deep, but not deep enough to cause any more issues than a large scar. Jim discreetly made his way to the bathroom, avoiding any contact with his mother. He couldn’t let her see what he’d done to himself. Luckily, with her being a doctor, the bathroom was sufficiently stocked with first-aid equipment.

After the wound was completely cleaned and wrapped up, Jim spent the rest of the night cleaning the bloodstains from his carpet and sheets, his arm pulsating horribly the entire time.

This routine went on for months, until the fateful day of his 16th birthday. That cursed fucking day.

At this point, Jim’s arms were covered in cuts and scars, old and new. Nobody had questioned him when he started wearing long sleeves and Jim was thankful for that. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if anyone saw what he was doing to his arms.

He went through the usual early morning celebration and present opening, pretending to care about the fact that sixteen was ‘an important milestone in a young boys life.’

Barbara went to work after everything was over and Toby showed up soon after, telling Jim how he had a surprise for him. Jim shook his head and rolled his eyes, but followed Toby anyways. He had hated his birthday since he was five, all due to his father leaving the day after his fifth birthday. Every year when Jim’s birthday came around, his depression levels went up tenfold, all his birthdays have been like that.

Toby led him to the local Vespa dealership and managed to get him a test ride. Even though it was only ten minutes, the fact that he got to drive a Vespa for a little while made him feel much better. Jim enjoyed the ride, the first time he had truly relaxed for months, until the last few minutes before he had to head back to the dealership.

In the distance, Jim spotted a strange looking blue thing, unsure of what it was until he got closer. There it was, the eight-eyed creature, standing in broad daylight, over what looked like Steve, blood covering its mouth. 

Jim swerved to avoid the thing in the middle of the road but the Vespa went too far, crashing into the forest below him. The last thing he saw was that crooked, rotten smile.

Pain. Bright white lights. The smell of cleaning supplies.

Jim’s eyes snapped open. His body ached, his mind took a minute to catch up. Oh no… The hospital! That means… His mother knew. She knew about his cuts and scars. There was no way she couldn’t, they probably removed his clothes while he was passed out to see if there was any serious damage.

Barbara entered the room and Jim pretended to be asleep, trying to control his breathing. He could feel the fear pumping through his veins, he could almost smell it.

“Jim, sweetie, wake up.”

He had no choice now, she was shaking him gently, the way she always did when she woke him up for school when he was younger. Jim slowly opened his eyes, tears already starting to form.

“We need to talk.”

Those words broke him. Jim began sobbing, bringing his hands up to hide his face.

“I’m s-sorry. I’m s-so sorry.” He felt like he couldn’t breathe, his lungs were pushing air in and out so fast they couldn’t process the oxygen. Jim had to tell her, he had to tell her.

“Is it because you’re depressed? Jim, there’s other ways to help that.”

There it was, right in front of him. A perfect excuse. He didn’t have to tell her.

“I-I just wanted t-to feel s-something.” Jim lied through his teeth, unable to stop crying, knowing his mother would believe him. He had never lied to her, not until now.

Barbara sighed and sat on the hospital bed, leaning over to hug her beautiful son. “We’ll get you help. Real help.”  
Real help. Yeah, right. Only one thing could help Jim, and it only ever lasted for a night. He wrapped his arms around his mother and didn’t want to let go, finally feeling safe for the first time in a year.


End file.
